


please leave your taste on my tongue

by LilyEllison



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Prompt Fill, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 12:49:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19905982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyEllison/pseuds/LilyEllison
Summary: Prompt fromTwiggyTwix: "It’s Karen and Matt’s first time together, and Matt wants to make the most of it – Create a memory that won’t ever go away. He wants to memorize every part of Karen’s body through all of his super senses the entire time they're in bed together. Little does he know that Karen’s doing the exact same to him (only, obviously, no super senses)."





	please leave your taste on my tongue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TwiggyTwix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwiggyTwix/gifts).



> I challenged myself to write and post this quickly without agonizing too much about it, so I hope it came out OK! Thanks to Twix for the prompt. I hope I did it justice!
> 
> And thanks as always to the wonderful [Quietshade](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quietshade) and [irelandhoneybee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irelandhoneybee) for being my first readers!
> 
> Title from [Paperweight](https://open.spotify.com/track/7IjL4IoQZMk1dOI4MH1T0i) by Joshua Radin and Schuyler Fisk. h/t irelandhoneybee and her excellent Karedevil playlist!

Karen put a pot of water on the stove to boil and started looking for the container of oregano she knew she had around somewhere. It had been a very long time since she spent a Saturday evening cooking.

She'd forgotten how nice it could be. How it gave her body a chance to slow down and her mind a chance to wander. (Though not wander _too_ far — her kitchen skills beyond making coffee and heating up takeout were rusty and she didn't want to burn anything.)

The best part about having a chance to think these days was that there was so much _good_ to think about. 

After months of struggling, Nelson, Murdock & Page had finally moved out of Nelson's Meats and into their own space. And the money they were making was enough to actually hire someone to run the office, instead of the three of them each juggling those tasks along with their caseload.

Near the end of the year, they'd had their biggest victory yet — one Karen still couldn't quite believe. She and Matt worked together to help an innocent man win his release from a life sentence. The case meant lots of long hours together and some incredible leg work by both of them. Well, all three of them, since Daredevil knocked some heads together to make cold trails blaze hot again. The evidence they uncovered showed the man had been framed for a crime actually committed by a cop — and it was so incontrovertible that the state agreed to a staggeringly high settlement without much of a fight.

The holidays were a happy rush after that — the firm was featured on the national news, they started getting more clients than they knew what to do with. Karen even got a call from her dad, who noted with apparent approval that everyone in Fagan Corners was buzzing about her good work. She wasn't sure it changed anything, but it meant something nonetheless. 

And then, on New Year's Eve came the happiest moment of them all, when on the stroke of midnight, she and Matt gave into weeks — months — of careful flirting and agonizing buildup and finally kissed. After, they agreed that a new year was the perfect opportunity for a new beginning.

They were taking things slow, to see if it felt right. (And it did. It felt right. God, it felt so right.)

Karen, whose ego was still a touch bruised from the past, was taking care to make sure _she_ was the one deciding when their dates ended, and Matt followed her lead with good grace. But it had been a few weeks now, and Karen was finding it harder to say goodbye at the end of the night.

And tonight, they were staying in.

A few days ago, after a yummy dinner at Nonna's, Matt admitted sheepishly that he’d been craving her grandmother's lasagna for _years_ but was too afraid to request it, given the loaded matrimonial implications.

“I couldn’t just say, ‘Karen, please make me your husband lasagna again,'" he explained with a laugh. "I didn’t know how you’d react. Especially now that Foggy’s marrying someone else and you’re stuck with me."

She grinned, taken aback. "I’m stuck with you, am I?"

Matt took her hand, his face serious. "I’m very sorry, darling, but I don’t make the rules. Grandmotherly injunctions are binding in all 50 states."

And the fact that Matt was already teasing her about getting married did wild things to her heart. All she could manage in response was to kiss away his smug smile. And _that_ did wild things to her whole body. It had taken considerable effort on her part to end that particular makeout session.

But the upshot was that tonight she was making virtue-free lasagna. Because she knew exactly how she wanted the night to go. 

She wanted Matt Murdock at her table, enjoying her home-cooked meal. And then she wanted Matt Murdock in her bedroom, enjoying _her_.

But now she was nervous. Really, really nervous. 

While she knew Matt well enough to understand that a good portion of Foggy’s banter was just that and nothing more, she also felt sure that he was more experienced than she was. And he could be so damn sexy, even when things got awkward. She still got shivers down her spine when she thought about that “I’m gonna kiss you” on her front stoop, before he went and did just that. 

Not to mention, his senses added a whole nother layer to all of this. For a while, she had tried to avoid things like blowing her nose or using the bathroom if he was around, until he called her on it and assured her he did not pay attention. But in bed, he would be paying attention to every single reaction her body had. And while she felt herself getting warm just thinking about it — it did have its appeal after all, the kinds of things he would know, and the kinds of things he could do with that information — she also didn’t trust her body not to embarrass the hell out of her.

But if she kept this up, she would be a basket case and the night would be a disaster.

Luckily, she did have one idea. Whenever she got too self-conscious, she could use the same approach she used for a case or a story — forget about herself and focus on observing everything she could. She could use her own non-super senses to take in every detail and store them up for always. It would get her out of her own head and it would make sure she had something to remember, just in case... well, she didn’t want to think about just in case of _what_ right now.

But she felt better as she slid the pan into the oven.

Not long to wait now.

* * *

Matt noticed his hand shaking a little as he brought his wine glass to his lips. He didn’t generally drink wine, but it had become something of a date-night tradition for them, and he was aware that everything about tonight's dinner had a special meaning.

All the signals Karen was sending out — both conscious and unconscious — were saying the same thing. Tonight was going to be _the_ night, and he wanted it to be perfect.

Karen deserved nothing less.

She'd put an endearing amount of effort in — a delicious dinner, the pinprick warmth of candles glowing around them, a certain scent she knew he liked clinging to her skin. But her body was bewitching him with no effort at all — just the unsteady cadence of her breathing and the sweet fluttering of her heart and the enthralling evidence of her attraction to him layered under it all.

He almost couldn't eat.

And it was too bad, because he really did love this recipe. His mother would call him blasphemous, but it truly put the lasagna at Nonna's — a Hell's Kitchen institution since his grandparents' heyday — to shame. He could have explained the differences in the two dishes down to the last ingredient if necessary, but he was having trouble focusing on the food.

"Would you like more wine?" Karen asked, her voice just a touch too formal.

"That would be nice," he said, equally carefully.

She stood up, and he realized she had left the bottle he'd brought with him on the kitchen island, next to the faint fresh scent of the dahlias he’d chosen for her. 

And as the air currents of the room shifted around her movements, outlining her curves and washing the taste of her down his throat, he found his mouth watering for reasons that had nothing to do with the thought of the wine or the lovely meal in front of him.

He wanted to touch her, and he knew she was eager for him to touch her, and dammit, he couldn't help himself. He stood up, too, and he caught her by the arm and she turned around. He brought his hand to the smooth skin of her cheek and let it linger for a gloriously tense moment before pressing his lips to hers. 

“Oh, this is better,” she sighed into him, her breath whispering over his skin as she molded her body to his. Her heartbeat knocked into him hard as she twined her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. He slid his tongue into the lush, velvety heat of her mouth, and the sensation made him think about being above her, about burying himself in another warm, wet, welcoming place, and his brain nearly short-circuited with lust.

He was hardening against her and she was moving her hips needily, instead of trying to cool things down, instead of pulling away. He ran his hands slowly down her back, pulling her even more firmly against him. “Karen,” he groaned.

“Matt...I-I think we’ve gone slow enough,” she said, a bit desperately.

“Definitely slow enough,” he agreed breathlessly. He moved his mouth up her jawline to her ear, so his lips brushed over it as he added, “I want you so much.”

She shivered, rubbing her cheek against his stubble, sighing out his name.

His hands roamed back up, finding the zipper of her dress. He paused, holding it between his thumb and first finger. "Yes?"

"Not just yes. _Hell yes_ ," she said with amusement, and he smiled. He pulled the zipper all the way down slowly as her hot little hands slipped up under his sweater. He trailed his fingers along her spine, loving the way her silky skin turned to goosebumps under his touch. She was tugging on his sweater so he raised his arms and pulled it over his head, and she let her dress fall away from her shoulders.

Then they were pressed together, the filmy lace of her bra and the hard peaks of her nipples beneath tantalizing against his bare chest. But as she explored his skin with her hands, she pulled away slightly.

“Oh, Matt,” she said, tenderness in her voice. Her fingers were skirting around fresh bruises, a scabbed-over cut, and running slowly over his ever-growing collection of scars.

“I’m sorry,” he said, stiffening.

“No, no,” she said, kissing him insistently. “You’re beautiful. I just...it feels like I should say thank you. For all that you’ve risked for me, for this city. And…” Her voice cracked. “I can’t help but think of that time I told you that you weren’t a hero.”

“Don’t do that, please,” he said. “You had every right to be upset with me. I handled it all so badly. I—I only hope that I can make up for those difficult memories with better ones.” She pulled him close again, turning her face into his neck. “And Karen...you might not have as many physical scars, but you’ve risked everything, too. You deserve thanks from me and from New York just as much, if not more.”

She pressed quick, emotional kisses against his shoulder before tilting her mouth up to his.

“We got a little serious there,” she said when they broke apart.

“That we did,” he agreed with a self-conscious smile.

“Maybe we should continue this someplace more comfortable.”

And she stepped out of her shoes and over the pool of her dress before leading him by the hand to her bedroom.

“You should get more comfortable too,” she said, and he chuckled. He stripped off his pants and shoes and socks and they laid down together on her bed in their underwear, arms around each other, foreheads pressed together, skin against skin. He breathed her in, reveling in how close he felt to her — not just physically but in every way. This was an intimacy that went beyond anything he had ever felt before.

After a moment, he rubbed his cheek back and forth over the pillowcase, realizing what he was feeling. “Silk sheets,” he said with affectionate awe.

“I slept in your bed not very long after we met,” she said with what seemed like a shrug. “It’s not like your preferences were a secret.”

It was sweet and thoughtful and so Karen. Plus, the knowledge of just how thoroughly she planned for having him in her bed tonight sent fire stealing through his veins again. It more than made up for the fact that they weren’t in _his_ bed, which would be better only because the traces of her, of them together, would linger for him to savor.

But it wasn’t like he would really need them. He was going to spend the rest of this night memorizing every bit of Karen — the taste and sound and smell and feel of her — in a way that he would never, ever forget.

* * *

He started slowly, at the very top of her head, his palm smoothing over her hair. He rubbed strands of it between his fingertips, pressing them to his lips, tunneling his fingers through the silken thickness to massage her scalp as she sighed...

She was focusing on his hands, how big they were, and how careful. She'd seen them bloody the bodies of men who meant to do her harm, but now they were gentle as whispers, capable of the softest of caresses...

And he touched her face, the curved lines of her brow and cheekbones and jawline and nose, stopping to take greedy kisses from her mouth...

As she worked to memorize the softness of his lips, how warm they were and how red they got after he kissed her. How flushed and tender he looked, not smug at all, but almost...awed.

And he was moving down the long column of her neck, listening for the spots that made her gasp, that made her groan, finding all the slightly thicker places that indicated dark patches. He wanted to connect the dots of her body with his tongue, create a sensuous map of her in his mind.

His skin was heavenly to touch, she thought, and the feel of his muscles under her fingertips was divine. She scratched and stroked and caressed him everywhere she could reach, careful to avoid the spots that would hurt…

And he moaned at the intensely erotic sound she made when his mouth finally made its way to her breasts. He sucked at her nipples through the lace and then her bra was gone and he was tasting her skin, his body throbbing in need of her, seeking out friction.

She reveled in the feel of him when he pressed firm and hard into the cradle of her hips. The thought of him moving into her, stretching her, filling her, made her clutch him close, her hands smoothing over his strong shoulders and into the soft, messy cloud of his hair.

He wanted to move slowly, he did, but the scent of her was calling to him and his lips began to wander over her ribs, down her stomach, moving inexorably toward her center.

She felt the sweet burn of his stubble across her stomach and began to tremble. She closed her eyes, concentrating on the sound of his heavy breathing as she anticipated what was coming next, feeling the air swirl fresh around her hips as he pulled her underwear away.

And then his tongue delved into the slick wetness that had been waiting for him almost since he arrived, that had intoxicated him far more than the wine ever could. He drank her in until she was writhing beneath him...

All of her lost to the sheer mind-blowing pleasure of his mouth. She realized dreamily that she had never had anything to be nervous about. She didn’t care what the hell her body did as long as he was making her feel like this.

He was building her up so close to a peak, he could smell it, taste it, feel it, and he craved it, he wanted to make her clench and cry out for him, but she was pulling back and saying his name…

Because she was ready, she was so, so ready, but she didn’t want to go over the edge before she had him inside her. She wanted, she _needed_ him there.

So he was shedding his underwear, rolling on a condom from the bedside table and trying to stay calm, trying to remember to store up each sensation in his mind. How it felt to hover over her, to kiss her lips, to lick the salt from her fevered skin before he sank slowly, deeply into her.

And _oh god oh god oh god_ , he felt so good, so right, and she wondered how it was possible that her body was still touching the bed, because she was floating lighter than air. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, holding him tight to anchor herself. “Just...stay like this for a second,” she murmured. “I want to remember...exactly...”

And her words alone were almost too much for him. She was doing precisely what he was, trying to make every moment of this into a memory that would last and last. “Karen,” he said, unable to hold it back, his voice coming out soft and rough, “I love you.”

“I love you,” she echoed, and her heart soared and her hips moved and then it wasn’t possible to stay still any longer. They moved together, and he ground intently against her until her banked orgasm sparked back into flame and then there was nothing left in her world but pleasure.

He didn’t stand a chance against it, the way she moved, the sound and scent of her, the feel of her all around him carrying him away on a wave. He gave in gratefully, worshipfully, ecstatically. 

* * *

Karen came back to herself in pieces, from her tingling toes to her blissed-out brain. She tried to catch her breath. All of this felt like a dream. The man she loved loved her and she felt so happy it was almost painful. She wasn’t sure whether to cry or to laugh. And then Matt let out a choked sound, a sort of dry sob, and she knew he was just as overcome as she was.

This was so different, Matt thought. With anyone else, he would need to pull away after sex, usually just for a few minutes, to get himself back together, get his senses back under control. With Karen, he discovered, it was the opposite. The idea of pulling away from her only intensified the dizziness. So he buried his face in her neck, trying not to crush her with his weight as he waited for the overwhelmed feeling to pass. Somehow, she seemed to know what he needed, stroking his hair so softly and making soothing sounds until he was breathing like himself again.

Then she kissed his head tenderly. “You OK, Murdock? You done for the night?”

And he pulled back so she could see every inch of his cocky smile. “Not just no. _Hell no_ ,” he said.

And she laughed until he cut it off with a kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm open to other smut prompts (and prompts in general), though I'm generally slow! I'm on [Tumblr](https://lily-ellison.tumblr.com/) (and I'm currently accepting anon asks if that's more comfortable!)


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